winds esker                
  
                                          
 there was this place that for two  years 
 i  couldn't go  to. regardless how  much 
 discussed  with  others, or  pointed out 
 on maps,  i  could not think of  it when 
 alone.  i would  often  travel past  the 
 fork,  where a  right turn  would surely 
 take me there,  but even then, something 
              kept me away.               
                                          
 when  i finally  got there,  after  some 
     heavy subconscious battle i must     
 assume,  the   place   was  surreal.  an 
 esker, like a  needle-thin  rift out  in 
 the  lake,  but  ten  meters   high  and 
 adorned in  birch, willow, bracken,  and 
               blueberries.               
                                          
 walking  atop  that  spine,  i  came  to 
 notice  the view  to  either side. there 
 should  be  shores,  of  course,  but  i 
 didn't  recognize them. first  off, they 
 were much too close, as  the lake should 
 stretch for  a  hundred  meters  more on 
 both sides.  but  now  i  felt  i  could 
 almost  reach  out  and touch  them. and 
 then, when i  realized which shores they 
           were, i had to stop.           
                                          
 they  were of the  right  lake. but this 
      lake is large, fractured, and       
 bipartite. like a  pair of lungs  carved 
 into the granite, and  with no less than 
   five communities anchored at various   
      points. and so, studying these      
     impossibly close shores, i slowly    
 understood them as  belonging many miles 
                  away.                   
                                          
 i   examined  the  ridge,  the  treeline 
 above. was this  what you saw  opposite, 
 from  those  other  shores?  i  couldn't 
                 remember.                
                                          
 carrying  forward, on the  very  tip  of 
 the  esker, i  found the  ruins of  some 
    old building. there were overgrown    
  marble staircases, stone floors beneath 
 the  moss, and  strange  slabs  inserted 
 into  the  slope like dams  against  the 
              ground itself.              
                                          
 sitting there, i could  see  across  the 
 narrowed lake my  entire path to where i 
 sat:  from  the stairwell  of my  house, 
 through the old  woods behind  the  tile 
      factory, the bridge over route      
 twenty three  and then  back  under  it, 
 through  the  fancy  villas,   over  the 
 fields, and then that right turn  at the 
                   fork.                  
                                          
 and  then the stairs  up  on  the ridge. 
 thinking  back,  this  was probably  it. 
 hidden  in  a grove,  there were  stairs 
 much like  the ones i currently  sat on, 
 old and  worn  down,  that lead  you  up 
 onto  the esker. the point of entry. had 
 i  insted  opted to walk the path at its 
 foot,  i'm sure  my experience  would've 
          been different indeed.          
                                          
  
                                          
 on  the   lake,  there  were  people  in 
 boats. i wondered,  could they  even see 
 me? if  i shouted,  would  they turn  to 
          stare right through me?